Runaway
by egbkid
Summary: Ten years have passed since I left. It's 2033 now...chapter 12epilogue added
1. one

Hey, all. I'm egbkid. You might remember me, you might not. Anyway, here's the  
  
latest from the deep recesses of my crazed mind. For those of you who have read my  
  
works before, I know I haven't finished 'Road Trip' or 'Future Differences' yet, but I am  
  
slowly coming up with an idea to continue them. My imagination has a thing for running  
  
away in the summertime, and both of those stories were written in the spring. But  
  
anyway, on with the show. This has no connections to anything I have written before, I  
  
had it partially uploaded before(called HOME), but am now starting over with a new title.  
  
Once again, I say I don't own anything but the weird ideas and some minor characters,  
  
everything else belongs to Mr. Cameron, Mr. Eglee and FOX. Don't sue me, all you'll  
  
get is a turquoise Caviler that demands 350$ every month.  
  
~egbkid  
  
~~  
  
2033  
  
~~  
  
I remember it as if I was there just last week. But I wasn't. It's been ten years. Ten long,  
  
sad years. For most of those ten years, I have lived in a small town. You know, one of  
  
those nice little ones on the water where you know practically everyone. And I know just  
  
about everyone there. Unlike where I lived before, but that's another story, almost  
  
another world. No. Not almost, it is another world. My life is so different than it was back  
  
then. When I was only nineteen. My only care was my own safety. I was running from  
  
the government. Well, hiding, actually. Then I met one of the few best friends I've had in  
  
this life. We spent almost three years together. One avoiding the fact that we were  
  
attracted to each other, and another with a virus that made it so we couldn't touch each  
  
other. Finally, six months after we found a cure, we clued into the fact that all our friends  
  
were right, so we hooked up. See, the only downside is that I was made in a lab. I was  
  
trained as a child to be a soldier, and I escaped when I was nine. That's why I was hiding  
  
in Seattle from the government. And my friend turned boyfriend was an underground  
  
cyber-journalist that everyone wanted to take out. He had a lot of enemies, as did I, we  
  
even had some in common. But we loved each other very much, we even talked about  
  
marriage, we thought we could live happily ever after. Right.  
  
  
  
Twenty years ago, I was X5-452: property of the US Government. Ten years ago, I was  
  
Max Guevera: Jam Pony Messenger, friend of Original Cindy and Logan Cale. Now, I  
  
am K.C.: mechanic, resident of Bay-West, N.B. in Canada, and mother of Patrick and  
  
Nicolas Cale.  
  
~~ 


	2. two

I left Seattle in July of 2022. It had been about eight months since Logan and I had  
  
accidentally touched and realized my virus had come with and expiry date. We, along  
  
with all our friends, were totally surprised. Logan and I were so surprised that we stayed  
  
away from each other for three days. It took us almost six months to get used to the idea,  
  
and to realize that we still liked each other. A lot. At the end of June that year, I moved in  
  
with Logan when Original Cindy and I got evicted and our building was torn down. Two  
  
weeks later, all Hell broke loose.  
  
  
  
Logan and I were watching a Pre-Pulse movie, I can't really remember the name of it, but  
  
it was another one of those freaky animated ones that he liked. Well, I guess I kind of  
  
liked them too. It had been quiet for awhile, you know, it didn't seem like we were being  
  
shot at quite so much lately, so I guess I kind of let my guard down a bit. In the middle of  
  
the movie, we heard the elevator bell ring, indicating there was someone at the door. We  
  
were expecting our friend Bling, so we paused the movie and Logan went to greet him  
  
while I went into the kitchen to get more popcorn. That's when I heard the gunshot.  
  
Dropping the popcorn, I ran through the apartment. I found Logan on the floor. I was to  
  
late.  
  
  
  
I screamed for what seemed like a lifetime. When I realized whomever shot Logan must  
  
be still around. The elevator was going down, so I took off down the stairs. There was no  
  
one in the lobby, not even the doorman. I ran out the door of the building. The only  
  
people on the street were a mother with three kids, and an older lady who lived in the  
  
building. So I ran back into the building to the elevator, calling Logan's doctor and  
  
Original Cindy while I traveled up. That's when I realized I was crying. Once I was in the  
  
apartment, I sat down beside Logan's body and continued crying. Cindy came in and sat  
  
beside me, but still I didn't move. It was over two hours later. Logan was gone, Sam was  
  
gone, everybody but Cindy, Bling and I. Cindy pulled me off the floor and into the living  
  
room, and made me sit on the couch. She turned off the television and went down the  
  
hall, bringing back a blanket and draping it over my shoulders, and then she left me and  
  
went into the kitchen with Bling.  
  
  
  
I felt numb all over; all I could do was sit there. I couldn't even cry anymore, it was as if  
  
I had no more tears left, but all I wanted to do was cry. Logan was gone. I thought it was  
  
my fault. I thought I knew what I had to do, so I grabbed a pen and piece of paper off the  
  
coffee table and wrote a quick note. I grabbed my jacket and a set of keys, then, without  
  
Cindy or Bling's knowledge, I slipped out the door. I never went back.  
  
~~ 


	3. three

I stopped in the parking garage long enough to decide to take Logan's car instead of my  
  
bike, but now I miss my bike almost as much as I miss Logan. I left Seattle heading east.  
  
I was just outside the city when I realized I was being followed. I cut north, heading on  
  
an old highway that went to Canada. It was not my plan to head to Canada, I didn't have  
  
the right papers, and I didn't even have my passport. The only ID I had on me was my  
  
sector pass, but I kept driving, taking highways and going through small towns seeing if  
  
it would be hard to lose my tail. As it got dark, I drove into another town, and this is  
  
where I decided to lose him. It took all of ten minutes, and then I quickly continued up  
  
the coast.  
  
  
  
That's when I realized how close I was to Canada. After being absolutely sure I was not  
  
being followed, I pulled over to figure out what I was going to do. Luckily, Logan and I  
  
were planning a trip out to his Uncle's cabin that weekend, and although it was only  
  
Monday, we had partially packed the car already. I got out and checked the trunk. Aside  
  
from Logan's extra wheelchair, there were our two backpacks with a few changes of  
  
clothes in them. I checked the spare tire, just in case, and found a small brown toiletry  
  
bag stuffed in beside it. Curious as to what Logan may have put in there, I opened it.  
  
About a dozen ID cards spilled out, with different names on them, two had Logan's  
  
picture on them, and another two had mine. I looked at them closer, they were both sector  
  
passes but they were different levels of clearance. There was something else in the  
  
bottom of the bag, so I dug it out. There were two passports, one male and on female.  
  
Also was a picture of Logan and I, taken in front of his building. I remembered when he  
  
got Original Cindy to take that picture; both she and I were confused as to why he wanted  
  
her to take it, especially since he had never shown the photo to us. I realized what he  
  
wanted me to do. I closed the hatch and got back into the car. I searched the glove box  
  
and found Logan's cell phone. I also found a bag with a pair of scissors and a tube of  
  
something in it, also a set of pencils that had color. I hadn't seen these last two things  
  
before. I carefully cut the photo in half, and put the picture of Logan in my inside jacket  
  
pocket, I would frame it later. I opened the tube that looked like a giant stick of lip gloss,  
  
and realized it was glue, so I carefully put some on the back of the paper and stuck it in  
  
the front of the passport. I was now Kori DeSmit.  
  
~~ 


	4. four

I waited forever at the border. They had tight security. I was about ten cars back when I  
  
decided to see if I could take a closer look. That's when I saw that the border patrol had a  
  
picture of me! Who was looking for me? I figured this time it must be whomever killed  
  
Logan, or Cindy and Bling. But they wouldn't expect me to go to Canada. They would  
  
expect me to head south, to find one of my sibs. I pulled out of the line as  
  
inconspicuously as I could, then headed back into the town that the border was outside of.  
  
Everything was just opening up, so I found a drugstore and looked for some hair dye. I  
  
was amazed by the price, but it was less than it would have been in Seattle, so I decided  
  
to splurge and buy it. I went to a restroom in a gas station, jammed the door shut, and  
  
dyed my hair reddish-brown. I went into the gas station and managed to buy a small can  
  
of black spray paint, then I found an abandoned parking lot behind a building, and  
  
painted the car as best I could. The only thing I had left to do was finish my disguise.  
  
Finding a pair of glasses in the glove box, I put them on and realized just how bad  
  
Logan's eyes were. I could barely see through them. I put them back in the case and  
  
tossed them back in the glove box. They were men's anyway. I went into the trunk and  
  
put on one of Logan's shirts, tying it at the waist. I breathed in his scent, the memory of  
  
him almost caused me to start crying again. I kept searching through his backpack, and  
  
found his camera, that's when I realized the picture on my passport didn't match what I  
  
looked like now! The camera only had four pictures left on it, so I decided to find some  
  
kid to take a few pictures of me posing as a tourist.  
  
~~ 


	5. five

I went back to the drugstore to get the photos developed, then re-fixed the passport. I  
  
hauled Logan's wheelchair into the backseat of the car, then drove back to the border.  
  
After waiting almost an hour in the line, I was shown a picture of me, and asked if I saw  
  
the person. I asked the border patrol why I was wanted. He said it was classified, so I  
  
continued across the border. I found a diner and used the rest of my money to buy  
  
breakfast while I thought. 'I'm in Canada!' I thought while I ate, 'but now what?' I paid  
  
for my breakfast and went back to the car, realizing what a mess it looked. I didn't know  
  
how I was going to manage to get the black paint off, but it would have to wait, I wanted  
  
to look around first. The first thing I noticed was there were no checkpoints. And very  
  
few cops. It was a nice town, but I couldn't stay, because I knew someone was after me.  
  
Although I didn't know how I was going to get there, I knew I had to go east, get as far  
  
away from Seattle as I could. I found a convenience store that gave out a free book of  
  
maps, and found one of Canada. I was in the province known as British Columbia. I saw  
  
that I only had a quarter tank of gas. Great. Now I had to find a way to get gas money and  
  
food, but I couldn't get a job, or at least not a legal job. Looking at the map of the  
  
province, I noticed I probably had enough gas to get to the nearest big city, but it would  
  
be pushing it. There was a better chance of getting some cash in a city like.Vancouver,  
  
than there was in the small town I was in, so I got in the car and drove.  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time I hit Vancouver it was late afternoon. I found a place called a soup kitchen  
  
and had dinner. I had never seen people give out free food before, unless it was someone  
  
like Logan. So far, Canada seemed like a nice place. I regretted what I had to do, but I  
  
needed to move fast. I checked part of the city on foot until dark, then I found a nice rich  
  
looking house and went in. Of course, there was nothing I could take to fence, because I  
  
didn't know any fences. I went for the wallets. In a purse and two wallets, I found almost  
  
fifty dollars total. Fifty Canadian dollars, which was almost a hundred in American  
  
money. I went to the next house and came out with another seventy, and a third put my  
  
total to a hundred and sixty dollars. I got back to the car and found an all night gas  
  
station, filling it to the top for fifty bucks. I was lucky to find a fast food place open and  
  
got something to eat, in Seattle, nothing was open after dark unless you were stupid or  
  
very courageous. Then, I took off for the next province.  
  
~~ 


	6. six

I did the same thing in cities through a few more provinces, but I was leaving a trail, so I  
  
had to do something else. I pulled into a large city called Winnipeg and decided to make  
  
it look like I was settling down there. I changed the plates on my car, got it registered  
  
with the local government and found a job that didn't require a Social Insurance Number.  
  
Babysitting. Yup, I was reduced to taking care of little brats, but apparently, that's what a  
  
lot of girls that were my age did then, either that or work in a coffee shop. I don't think  
  
so. To many people around. I stuck around for a month, waiting for September. When it  
  
arrived, I entered a local high school for a semester. I snuck into the school late one night  
  
to get all the paperwork I needed, and then handed it in the next day. But by then, I had  
  
found out someone had been asking about Kori DeSmit at the border where I came  
  
across, so I changed my name to Kori Cale, or K.C. I was beginning to like Canada, so  
  
far there had been little rain, long evenings and warm, sunny days. Three months into my  
  
stay in Winnipeg, I found out what Canadian winters were really like.  
  
  
  
  
  
It's not that I don't mind shoveling snow, it's good exercise, and I made a lot of money  
  
that way. But in January of 2023, Winnipeg was literally up to it's @$$ in snow! I don't  
  
think I had ever seen so much, and cold! Cold had never really affected me before, but  
  
this time it had. I froze. Everyone said it was a dry cold, if we were in Nova Scotia or  
  
PEI, it would be different. I didn't care. Cold is cold, and I wasn't in Nova Scotia or PEI,  
  
I was in Winnipeg and freezing my butt off. I almost thought of going back home to  
  
Seattle, but instead after exams were over in early February, I got my transfer papers and  
  
left, heading east once more. I was on the road on Valentine's Day. I didn't care; I missed  
  
Logan all the more because this was supposed to be our first real Valentine's Day  
  
together. I'm not that romantic, but Logan was, and I missed that. I missed his cooking, I  
  
missed my bike, I missed Original Cindy, Bling. Hell, I even missed Normal a bit. I  
  
missed the rain, I hated the snow. I wished I could go back, but I couldn't.  
  
~~ 


	7. seven

I was in Quebec when I found them. He was small, and was holding on to his baby  
  
brother as best he could. I was spending the night behind a mall, trying to find a way to  
  
make some quick cash without leaving a trail. I heard a baby crying, but never thought of  
  
it, until I heard the baby again an hour later, this time it didn't let up, so I went to  
  
investigate. Sitting behind a garbage bin bundled in six blankets were two small children,  
  
the baby crying. The older boy looked up at me with curiosity in his eyes. They were  
  
freezing, it was only late February and still cold, so I picked them both up and carried  
  
them to the car. Turning the heat up as high as it would go, I unwrapped them from the  
  
blankets. The baby was wearing a diaper and shirt, and the older one a ratty pair of jeans  
  
and t-shirt. It had holes in it, so I stripped it off. There was a huge hand shaped bruise on  
  
his back, as well, a red mark going from his left shoulder blade to his right hip. I was  
  
shocked! I took the baby's shirt off and found finger shaped bruises around his shoulder,  
  
as if someone grabbed him. If I could find the person that did this I would murder them. I  
  
asked the little boy what was wrong with his brother, but of course he only spoke French.  
  
I moved the car to a better hiding spot, leaving it on for warmth, then I managed to let the  
  
little boy know that I would be back in a few minutes. I took the door key, locked all four  
  
doors and walked to the nearest convenience store. It was the middle of the night and  
  
closed. Great. I looked over the alarm, the four numbers most worn, and how many  
  
combinations I had. Twenty seconds to get the right one. I cracked the door lock easily,  
  
and it took me six tries and fifteen seconds to get the right code. Perfect. I grabbed a  
  
basket and started filling up. Baby formula, diapers, milk, and some bread and peanut  
  
butter. I cracked the till, but it was empty, then I spied a small door under the counter  
  
with a combination lock on it. Thirty seconds later, I had a thousand dollars in my pocket.  
  
Re-locking the lock, I went back into the store and grabbed a bottle of oil for the car,  
  
some windshield fluid and a couple of frozen meals I could warm up. I went to the  
  
microwave and did just this with one. It would still be warm by the time I got back to the  
  
car. Then I reset the door alarm, locked the door and went back to the car.  
  
  
  
  
  
I changed and fed the children, then let them sleep in the backseat. I sat and thought.  
  
What now? Drop them off at a hospital or with the cops? What were the chances that  
  
their parents would get them back? The little boy crawled up into the front seat beside  
  
me. He sat there and stared at me. I stared back. I had known few children in my life.  
  
Very, very few children. Digging into the deep recesses of my mind, I started to  
  
remember some of the French training I had taken as a child. I tried talking to him. First I  
  
asked his name, he told me it was Nicolai, and his brother, Patric. He wouldn't tell me his  
  
last name. Smart kid. I guessed that he was two, and Patric was about six months. I asked  
  
him how old he was, anyway. He put up three fingers, so I asked him if he knew how old  
  
Patric was. He shook his head no, but pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. I  
  
took it and opened it up, written on it was "Nicolai: 23 Octobre, 2019 Patric: 17 Juin,  
  
2022". So, he was eight months old. Nicolai was starting to yawn, so I sent him back into  
  
the backseat. It was still the middle of the night. I was sitting there thinking when I heard  
  
a tap on the window. There was a man standing outside my car. Pulling one of Logan's  
  
ball caps on, I cautiously got out and locked the door.  
  
"Can I help you?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah." He said, with a thick French accent.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"T'ose my kids in your truck."  
  
"I'm sure they're not, sir."  
  
"Ya? What you know, hah? Dat my son, Nicolai, an' th' bebe, c'est Patric."  
  
"Really? So you can tell me what happened to them."  
  
"What do you mean? My woman stole dem, probly left 'em out 'ere in the cold."  
  
"I meant the bruises." I tried my best to keep my voice level and calm. He was a large  
  
man, and probably had a temper to match. I didn't want to have to fight him, lest I expose  
  
myself and have whoever was after me back on my trail.  
  
"Ah, just a lil' discipline. You know. They noisy when I try to sleep. What? You never  
  
let your woman 'ave it? You gotta keep 'em in line, tell 'em who's boss, non?" That's  
  
when I realized he thought I was a guy! I was wearing some of Logan's clothes because  
  
mine were all dirty, but I didn't think I looked like a guy! I didn't like the way he was  
  
talking, either, by the sounds of it, his wife looked like his children. I was so angry, I  
  
decided to risk it and take him out. I started by running behind him, before he even knew  
  
what hit him, I wacked him in the shoulder, hard. I wasn't going to let him go  
  
unconscious for this one. He turned, hollering, and that's when he noticed.  
  
"Hey! You just a chick! I'll teach you fir takin' my kids!" He ran at me, fists flying. I  
  
casually stepped out of the way. Then, I ran at him, jabbing and kicking him all over.  
  
"How do you like it? Huh?" I hollered. "If I EVER hear of you HITTING a WOMAN or  
  
CHILD again, I will PERSONALLY HUNT you DOWN and KILL YOU!" I accentuated  
  
each word with a hard punch. "GOT IT?" I let him fall. He lay there on the pavement for  
  
a minute; I almost thought I had knocked him out. Almost. Luckily I didn't let my guard  
  
down. He suddenly jumped up and ran at me, full force. I sidestepped him again, but he  
  
got me in the shoulder, knocking me off balance. He swung around and managed to  
  
punch me in the back before falling to the pavement again, wheezing.  
  
"I can do whatevea I want ta, wheneva I wanna to my wife an' kids. I OWN dem!" he  
  
whispered, struggling to get up again.  
  
"Wrong answer!" I said. I punched him in the side of the head, knocking him out for a  
  
few hours. I casually walked back to the car, checking on the children, then I rummaged  
  
around until I found some change, relocked the doors and went to find the nearest  
  
payphone.  
  
~~ 


	8. eight

After calling the police to come pick the unconscious @$$hole up, something I found  
  
you could easily do in Canada, I got in the car and drove, as far and as fast as I could go  
  
without getting stopped for speeding. Before I knew it, the sun was coming up and Patric  
  
was crying, I had forgotten that the children were sleeping in the backseat. I pulled over,  
  
changed Patric, then fed them both. I dug out my map book and checked to see where I  
  
was, according to it, I was about two hours from the Quebec/New Brunswick border. But  
  
now, someone may be after me again. I decided to cut across the top of New Brunswick,  
  
to Nova Scotia. Halifax looked like a good city, and I could get some cash there. I figured  
  
on leaving a trail in down to Halifax, then halfway back up, to one of the smaller towns. I  
  
then decided I was going to drive at night down to a town called Digby and take a boat  
  
called a ferry back over to New Brunswick. It sounded like a good plan, but I would need  
  
lots of cash, I doubted that the ferry would be free. Every day for the next week, I  
  
stopped in a different city. We spent the day in a hotel, checking the sights, and teaching  
  
Nicolai English. Once we got out of the French part of New Brunswick, I decided to  
  
change the children's names. So Nicolai wouldn't be confused, I gave him the name  
  
Nicolas and Patric the name Patrick. Every place I had been in, I had been changing my  
  
name, between Max and Kori, I even used Cindy once. I also changed last names,  
  
DeSmit to match my passport, to Cale in memory of Logan. I seldom used the name  
  
Guevera, but when I had to, I did. While checking out the sights of each city, I also cased  
  
the places. At night, I left the children in either the car or a hotel sleeping, and went out to  
  
get some money. I always made sure I was back at about 2:30, because Patrick usually  
  
woke up around three. One day during that week, it snowed, so the town we were in I  
  
shoveled a few driveways for some cash. For the entire week, we ate lightly and tried to  
  
stay cheaply, finally, we were in Halifax. We stayed there for two days, it was a beautiful  
  
city, and I didn't hit any houses. I rested and worked on Nicolas' English as much as I  
  
could. I didn't want him to give us away when we finally settled down, which I was  
  
planning on doing once we got back to New Brunswick. After spending two days in  
  
Halifax, I went ahead with my plan. We went back up through Nova Scotia towards New  
  
Brunswick, hitting different towns and cities. Three days after leaving Halifax, I stopped.  
  
I put the kids to bed that night in the car, and drove. It didn't take me as long as I thought  
  
it would to get to Digby, but then again, it helped me to just disappear. I had to wait for  
  
morning to take the ferry, so I found a small store, cracked the code, got some supplies  
  
but no cash, re coded the door and went back to the car. I woke Nicolas about half an  
  
hour before we were supposed to go on the ferry, I got him dressed, fed him and talked  
  
while we waited. He loved being on the ferry, while Patrick slept in my arms, Nicolas ran  
  
around the observation room with another child his age. There weren't many people on  
  
the ferry because it was so early, so they didn't bother anyone. When we docked, we  
  
were in a city called Saint John.  
  
~~ 


	9. nine

Now I had to make sure there was no one on my trail. I decided to stay in Saint John for a  
  
few days, keeping quiet and thinking. The first thing I did when we got off the ferry was  
  
find a map of the city. I found a restaurant and sat down with the kids to eat, looking at  
  
the map. Not a very big city, but nice. Along with a map came a small history. It seems  
  
that this city was one of the first in Canada, and was going downhill fast by the end of  
  
2008. When the Pulse hit America, Saint John's port re-opened and took a lot of Boston's  
  
business. Not a bad way to turn your city around. Now it was thriving, and had grown a  
  
lot to the East since then. Looking at the map, I found a few small towns lay to the West  
  
of the city, I turned the map over and found smaller ones of those towns. One that caught  
  
my eye was Bay-West. Looking at the history, it said in the late 1990's it was a small  
  
town and a village, which came together to form one town. Nice. I figured I might take  
  
the kids out to see it if we had some time. But for now, I planned on staying in the city.  
  
Putting the map away, I noticed a pile of newspapers lying on the counter, telling Nicolas  
  
to stay at the table; I went over to look through the pile. One was Halifax's paper, one  
  
Toronto's and one was the local paper. I took it and went back to the table. The front-  
  
page headline caught my eye. It said Nova Scotia's nighttime cat burglar had been caught  
  
late last night two towns away from where we stopped! That was impossible! I must have  
  
had a poor copycat, it was nice to know I was famous, but at least for now I was off the  
  
radar for a bit. Now what. I thought about settling down again, maybe for a little while.  
  
But what would I do with the kids?  
  
~~ 


	10. ten

I found a motel room to rent for a few days until I could find a place to live. Since we  
  
were staying for a while, I pulled everything from the car, including Logan's spare  
  
wheelchair. Don't ask me why I kept it; I had some of his clothes, even his cell phone, to  
  
remember him by, I guess. But what I did with it is weird. While Nicolas and Patrick  
  
napped, I walked around the room, checking it out, putting a few things away, stuff like  
  
that. I went down to the car and hauled the wheelchair out, along with the final bag of  
  
stuff, some clothes I had obtained for the kids. I opened the wheelchair and put the bag  
  
on it, pushing it into the motel room. I put the kids clothes in one of the dresser drawers,  
  
then sat down in the wheelchair, putting my feet on the rests. I closed my eyes and rolled  
  
back and forth in the chair, thinking of Logan. I thought I felt a tear escape from under  
  
my eyelid, but when I went to rub it away, my cheek was dry. I hadn't cried since that  
  
day, and haven't since, believe it or not. But, was sitting there, rocking back and forth,  
  
my eyes closed and remembering. I think I almost fell asleep, until I heard Patrick's cry  
  
from the bed. Just as he cried out, an idea popped into my head. I got up and tended to  
  
Patrick, then woke Nicolas. Sitting in the wheelchair, I tried to explain to the three year  
  
old what had to be done.  
  
  
  
"Do you remember what we have talked about the last few days?" I asked him. He  
  
nodded, so I continued, "Ok, let's go through it again, is that alright?" he nodded again.  
  
"Alright. What's your name?'  
  
"Nicolas."  
  
"Ok, Nicolas, do you have another name?" he shook his head no. "Ok, now we have to  
  
change something. Your new last name is Cale, ok? Your name is Nicolas Cale." He  
  
nodded again.  
  
"Alright, so if I ask you your name, you say."  
  
"Nicolas Cale."  
  
"Great! And how old are you?"  
  
"Trois.Non.Three!" He hollered, giggling. I was glad he thought this was a game; it  
  
would make it much easier on both him and me.  
  
"Alright! Nicolas, do you have any brothers?"  
  
"Yup!"  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Une."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Umm, ONE!"  
  
"What his name?"  
  
"Patric."  
  
"Is it Patric? Or Patrick?"  
  
"OH! Patrick!"  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"Bebe."  
  
"Bebe? What do you mean?"  
  
"Baby."  
  
"Ok, baby. He's a baby, right?"  
  
"Uh huh!" he giggled again.  
  
"Alright, would you like a treat?" "YA!!" I put my feet on the footrests again and went over to the tiny fridge. Opening it, I  
  
pulled out a bag of chocolate cookies and gave him one.  
  
"Ok, Nicolas Cale, right?" he nodded, mouth full of cookie. "Good, so who am I?"  
  
"Mama?"  
  
"No." I wasn't really sure I wanted him calling me mama, I was going to let everyone  
  
believe I was their sister or aunt or something.  
  
"Ya, tu a mon Mama. You are Mama." I thought about it for a few minutes.  
  
"Ok, Mama. Sure. All right. Mama." I let him go play for a bit while I got Patrick ready  
  
to go out, then I took them to a barber and got Nicolas' hair shaved off. He really liked  
  
the effect, and I hoped it would disguise him enough for a while. I got my long curls cut  
  
really short, just below my ears. By now, the dye had been washed and grown out, so I  
  
figured I was safe. Now, all we had to do was find a permanent place to stay.  
  
~~ 


	11. eleven

I decided to check out how the city was laid out, and I found that there were five main  
  
parts, locally called the West Side, the North End, Uptown, the South End, and East. The  
  
West Side had a lot of businesses, except for a part called the Lower West, which was  
  
mostly homes. The North and South Ends were a lot of apartments; there were a few  
  
businesses, a Hospital and a University in the North End as well. Uptown was busy, all  
  
small businesses, mostly tourist attractions, a few High Schools, and a couple of parks.  
  
East was the bigger businesses. The newest part of the city was part of the East, and was  
  
elegant homes, the richer people lived there. The city also had a Zoo, and a huge park  
  
with an actual lake that you could swim in during the summer.  
  
  
  
I didn't really want to live in an apartment with two kids, and I knew there was no way I  
  
could afford one of the houses in the East, so I decided to look in the small towns to the  
  
west of the city. The first one I checked out was Bay-West, it was a beautiful small town  
  
with three public schools, Nicolas and Patrick could go to school for nine years without  
  
leaving the community. There was a doctor's and a dentist's office, and lots of businesses  
  
where I could get a job. Best of all, it was on the water, like Seattle. The only difference  
  
was, in Seattle people were seldom allowed on the beaches. In Bay-West, the beaches  
  
were open to everyone at anytime. I started to look for a small house to live in, it wasn't  
  
too hard to find, either. I know it sounds weird, but the first thing I did, even before we  
  
moved in, was get a ramp built over the stone steps leading to the house. We stayed in the  
  
motel for the rest of the month, because the other family in the house had to move out.  
  
Don't ask me why, but I started to use Logan's wheelchair off and on during the month. I  
  
was sitting in it on April first, 2023, the day we moved in. And I have seldom ventured  
  
far from it since.  
  
~~ 


	12. twelve

The last of my money from my Nova Scotia spree was used to buy wood to make beds  
  
for the kids and me. Sitting in Logan's wheelchair, I built them myself on our first day  
  
there. With the extra wood, I went out in the backyard and built a small sandbox. I  
  
planned on getting some sand from the beach to fill it with after dark. There was little  
  
food left in the cupboard, and we needed furniture. I knew I couldn't steal from these  
  
people if I wanted to stay here for any period of time, so I had to get a job. That night, I  
  
went back into Saint John and made my last break in. The next day, I bought what I  
  
needed to turn Logan's car into the beauty it once was. A car that was over twenty years  
  
old, looked like it just came off the showroom floor. That's how I managed to get my job  
  
as a mechanic and auto body repairer in one of the two Bay-West garages.  
  
  
  
~~ 


	13. thirteen

Bay-West is a beautiful town. I've raised my kids here for ten tears, and I hope to raise  
  
them here for the next ten years. The first thing I had to get used to was the fact that I  
  
couldn't just walk out the door. I have to find a baby sitter, among many other things.  
  
After spending ten years here, I have made many friends. Thing is, I am lying to them all.  
  
Every one of my new friends believe I can't walk, because I use Logan's old wheelchair.  
  
I guess it kind of helps me feel closer to him. It's been almost eleven years since he died,  
  
but I never got to say goodbye. I never got to go to his funeral. I never got the chance to  
  
save him. Yes, I still fell guilty about Logan's death. I still miss Seattle, I still miss all  
  
my friends, but I have a new life now, a different life. My oldest son, Nicolas Alexander,  
  
will be fourteen in four months. My youngest, Patrick James, is eleven in two days. He  
  
can't wait for his birthday; we're going to have a party this year. I own my house, a small  
  
one in the middle of the town. The boys can walk to school when it's nice, or take the bus  
  
when it is not. I still drive Logan's old car, but keeping in good shape is hard, after all, it  
  
is over thirty years old. Every one of my friends think I am crazy for driving it, but only I  
  
know how many times that car was shot up helping Logan and I get out of scrapes, and  
  
only I know the journey across Canada that car made with me, towing an infant and a  
  
toddler half the way. Nicolas remembers very little about our traveling. Both children  
  
know they were adopted, but we don't express that to many others. All of my friends  
  
think it strange of me that I don't talk about my past. I keep the only visible reminder on  
  
my mantle. It is a picture of Logan, the picture that I cut in half to make myself a passport  
  
to get into Canada. I framed it as soon as we settled. I have told the children little about  
  
Logan, and was shocked when Patrick started calling him father when he was about four.  
  
Nicolas picked it up, and now Logan is the only father they know of. For ten years, I have  
  
lived peacefully with my children, working in the garage in the daytime, and spending  
  
my nights either jogging through the wooded areas of town, or sitting on top of the local  
  
middle school; contemplating on my past and our future.  
  
  
  
I've always wondered how the children would react if I took them to Seattle, back to  
  
where I came from. I always told everyone I was born and raised in Seattle, and I was  
  
lucky to be able to use the Pulse as an excuse as to why I didn't have birth certificates for  
  
the children. Since the Pulse, a lot of births go unrecorded. Every summer I think, this is  
  
the summer, the summer to go back. But every summer, I find an excuse. The children  
  
are too young to travel. Seattle is too dangerous. I don't want to pull them away from  
  
their friends. And they go on and on. It all goes down to the fact that I am scared. I, X5-  
  
452, a tougher than nails, genetically engineered fighting machine, am scared to go home.  
  
Sounds stupid, doesn't it? What would Cindy say? She'd slap me upside the head and tell  
  
me to get my @$$ in gear, that's what. Logan would chuckle and say "You? You're not  
  
scared of anything." School will be out in two weeks. Patrick is going into middle school,  
  
and Nicolas into the city to go to High School. I've decided I am going to write to Cindy  
  
and Bling. If one of them responds, I will take my boys home. Maybe.  
  
~~ 


	14. fourteen

Bling;  
  
Hello, again. It's me, Max. It has been a long time, and I am sorry. I took off when I  
  
should have thought of everyone else. One of our best friends was killed and I thought  
  
only about myself and took off. I am sorry. I want to tell you of my life now; I go by the  
  
name Kori Cale, or K.C. I live in a town called Bay-West in Canada. And I miss Seattle  
  
and my friends so much. I have two sons now; I adopted them. Their names are Nicolas  
  
and Patrick, and I want to bring them home. I plan on coming to Seattle with them when  
  
school ends. I miss you and I am sorry.  
  
Yours,  
  
Max.  
  
~~  
  
My boo, Cindy;  
  
Yes, that is me in the photo that dropped out of the envelope. That is me with my two  
  
little boys. The tall one is Nicolas, and the one with the head of blond hair is Patrick. I  
  
still think of them as my little boys, even though they aren't that little anymore. And, yes.  
  
That is me, your boo, sitting in the wheelchair, grinning like an idiot. You don't know  
  
how much I have missed you, Seattle, and especially my baby; I know you are taking  
  
good care of her. I am sorry I just up and left you like I did. Everything just came down  
  
to the thought that it was my fault, and that you would be next. So I made a stupid choice  
  
and I split. I'm in a small town called Bay-West, and I changed my name to Kori Cale,  
  
everyone here calls me K.C. Bay-West is in the province New Brunswick, in Canada. I'm  
  
in Canada! I never thought I would come up here. It is so nice up here, no depression;  
  
you can eat just about whatever you want, whenever you want. You would love it here.  
  
After school ends, I am planning on bringing my boys home to Seattle.  
  
I have to go now, Patrick will be home from school soon, and it's his birthday tomorrow,  
  
he's so excited.  
  
Love,  
  
Your boo,  
  
Max.  
  
~~ 


	15. fifteen

I heard Patrick coming in the door, so I stuffed them both in envelopes and put them in a  
  
desk drawer. As I was going down the hall, I realized neither letter sounded like it came  
  
from me, and they defiantly didn't sound like I did when I lived in Seattle. I decided to do  
  
a rewrite after Nicolas and Patrick went to bed.  
  
I didn't even think about the letters until after dinner, when Nicolas was doing his  
  
homework. He was using the computer to finish up an essay, when he opened the drawer  
  
to get some paper for the printer. I don't know why he opened the envelope, because he  
  
normally wouldn't go into something that wasn't his, but he did. I was in the den, helping  
  
Patrick study for his final, when I heard Nicolas holler. Thinking he was hurt, I rushed  
  
down the hall to the office. When I saw what he had in his hand, I sent Patrick back to the  
  
den. After closing the office door, I asked Nicolas what was wrong.  
  
"What is this?" he asked.  
  
"A letter, to my friend, you."  
  
"It's more than just a letter! Who is Cindy?"  
  
"Cindy is my best friend, from Seattle. You know. I grew up there."  
  
"And Max? Why did you sign it 'Max'?  
  
"Nicolas, you know I changed my name to Kori when we moved here. I had to change all  
  
our names when we arrived."  
  
"You changed my name too? You never told me that!"  
  
"Yes, I changed your name. I changed Patrick's name slightly, and I changed my name  
  
completely."  
  
"I don't get it! Max, Kori, who are you? Who am I?"  
  
"You are Nicolas Alexander Cale. I am Kori Cale, your mother."  
  
"No, you're Max, mother of whoever it is that Cindy is taking care of! Just how old is  
  
this baby of yours? And why did you leave her behind but pick us up along the way!"  
  
"It's not what you think, Nicolas."  
  
"It's not what I think? You never tell us anything about where we came from, our only  
  
father is a photograph, you write mysterious letters to mysterious people about running  
  
away and leaving your baby girl, and now you want to drag us to Seattle! What don't I  
  
understand?!" He ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"Nicolas!"  
  
~~ 


	16. Epilogue

I read over the letters that he had thrown at me before he ran out. They did sound  
  
mysterious, I should have re-written them, but I crumpled them, tossed them in the trash  
  
and went back down the hall to Patrick.  
  
About an hour later, Patrick was finished studying for the night, and I had decided to tell  
  
them everything. I sent Patrick to Nicolas' room to get them. Patrick came back two  
  
minutes later saying his brother was not there. I went to the bedroom and found his  
  
window wide open. His backpack was missing, and so were some of his clothes. It would  
  
be a long time before I saw my oldest son again.  
  
~~  
  
End  
  
~~ 


	17. extra

Don't worry.a sequel is coming. ( 


End file.
